Her shoulders slumped. “Okay… it was before. I can’t control if someone wants to send me a gift.”
Tanner stepped closer, the album still gripped tight in his hand, the spine digging into his palm. “And yet he keeps sending you shit like this. Pictures of the two of you circled like some kind of twisted love story. You really think that’s harmless?”
Junie lifted her chin, fire flashing in her eyes. “At least he’s interested in being more than friends. Unlike some people I know.”
The words landed like a spark on dry grass, igniting everything inside him.
Years of holding back, of telling himself she was too young, too sweet, too important to risk — it all crashed over him in a hot rush. His chest heaved as the last thread of control snapped.
“You want to be more than friends?” he growled. “Wish granted.”
The album hit the floor with a heavy thud. Tanner cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading deep into her soft hair, and crushed his mouth to hers.
The first taste of her hit him like good whiskey—sweet, warm, and addictive. He kissed her hard, hungry, years of pent-up want and frustration pouring out in every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth.
Junie made a soft, shocked little sound against his lips, then melted into him with a whimper that went straight to his cock. Herhands fisted tight in his shirt like she was afraid he’d vanish if she let go.
He growled low in his throat and tilted her head exactly how he wanted, deepening the kiss until she opened for him completely. He’d been starving for her for years. He sucked on her bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, drinking in every gasp and shiver she gave him.
This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t careful.
This was claiming.
His free hand slid down her back, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly what she did to him. Junie arched into his body with a needy little moan that nearly undid him right there in the middle of the bakery.
He was done holding back. Junie Morgan was his.
The bell over the door jingled.
“Excuse me, I’m here to get some cupcakes.”
Tanner tore his mouth from Junie’s with a harsh curse, chest heaving. She blinked up at him, lips swollen and shiny, eyes wide and dazed like she hadn’t heard a single thing. But he had, and he’d recognized the voice.
He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You’ve got a customer, babygirl.”
She stared at him a second longer, still dazed, then gave a little shake of her head. “Ah… yes. Right.”
He glanced over his shoulder. Cherry stood just inside the door, arms crossed, eyes narrowed into thin, angry slits.
Tanner turned back to Junie, jaw tight, voice dropping low and gravelly. “End it with him, Junie. Or I will. Preston is my problem now. I’ll deal with it.”
He bent down, snatched the album off the floor, and headed for the door.
Cherry stepped right into his path, nearly blocking him. “Well, well. What a surprise to see you here, Tanner. I haven’t seen you in months. We should really get together again sometime.”
Tanner looked at her, irritation flashing hot through his veins. He shook his head. “I've never gotten together with you, Cherry. And I damn sure don’t have time for you today. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He stepped around her without another word, the album gripped tight in his hand, and Junie’s taste still burning on his lips.
“Oh, of course,” Cherry cooed, stepping aside with a sickly sweet smile. “Anything for you, Tanner. Anything.”
If he’d had a mind to look at the woman, he’d have rolled his eyes. As it was, he didn’t spare her another look. Jaw locked tight, he stalked out of the bakery, the bell jingling behind him like a mocking afterthought.
Just as the door swung shut, Junie’s voice floated out after him, bright and professional. “So good to see you, Cherry. What can I get for you?”
Tanner headed toward Wilder Wealth while the fire he’d just lit between them still raged inside him. Preston’s father, Harlan Lassiter, had built Wilder Wealth Management from the ground up years ago. Wild River Ranch had never done a lick of business with them, but the man clearly knew how to make money. The Lassiters’ big house, flashy cars, and country-club lifestyle made that plenty obvious.
Tanner only knew Preston by sight, thanks to the lovely little photo album the bastard had so thoughtfully put together. According to Kenzie, he’d been in the same ninth-grade class as Junie and her, but that was all Tanner knew. Well, other than he was an entitled ass who didn’t understand the meaning of the word no.
